


(fuck, you're such a riot)

by our_black_heart



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Love, M/M, Poetry, poet!frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1944360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/our_black_heart/pseuds/our_black_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is a poet and Gerard wants to feel alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(fuck, you're such a riot)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think there are any trigger warnings. Let me know if there are any. BUT this does actually contain Frank's actual poetry.

Gerard was a hopeless. Frank would always catch the sideways gentle glances, the soft touches with just the very tips of his fingers. Gerard was a hopeless romantic. Frank loved the way simple tasks seemed so monumental to Gerard, each day was a boundless journey that couldn’t be strained by anything mortal or anything monetary. The smallest of kisses were just too good to be passed up and so they weren’t. Everything was slowed down to a pace that would be so terribly painful and yet it seemed to be light years ahead of its time. This love that Gerard could give, Frank considered too much at times and not enough at others. But it was always felt, it was always real and the extremity of it always felt suffocating. And Frank wanted nothing more than to revel in it. He wanted to harness its full potential and just fucking drown in it. 

Of course, Gerard would definitely willingly give Frank all of it because he was endlessly romantic, or at least that’s how Frank always pictured it. Gerard’s eyes always lingered so eagerly on Frank’s entire body, the stare was almost too intense too lay comfortably under and it made Frank squirm, because Frank’s always been a little self conscious. It was something he dealt with, although badly, as a teenager. He was teased in school about his height and his weight and even his shitty haircuts. But when Gerard made him feel self conscious it wasn’t the same kind, it was the kind where skin blushes and eyes flutter. It was the kind that made your entire body shy and made you feel open and alive, loved and appreciated for just being who you are. And that’s what Gerard made Frank feel. And sometimes Frank felt that he didn’t deserve the severity of this kind of love. Sometimes he felt like this kind of love couldn’t be sustained and that it would eventually dwindle down to nothing and he feared that day to no end. It made him paranoid and finicky; it made him question who he was and why he was put in this situation in the first place. It made him wonder what he did to deserve this love and why it was his duty to uphold it. But Gerard, he was always so sure of it. He was full of it and certain of it and he worried himself about why Frank thought he didn’t deserve it. 

There wasn’t a day where Gerard questioned something that he felt explode inside of him every time Frank so much as looked in his direction. It wasn’t like Gerard was always a romantic, he was once a lowly drunk. He’d waste his money and time on things that were only meant to do just that, waste. He hadn’t found a reason to change until one rainy day, he was too drunk to continue walking down the streets of a brutally cold Jersey and in all honesty it wasn’t the safest thing to do, even on a clear night. He saw a warm light emanating from a small book store just on the corner of the street he had been trudging down and it was too inviting to pass up. He had stumbled into some sort of poetry event, writers sharing books and stories and poetry right off the top of their heads, books as far as the eye could see or at least as far back as the shop walls would go. There was a table in the back with pixie cups and coffee, this felt like fate.

Gerard listened to all the poetry and it all felt like a dagger to the heart, if life had things to offer like poetry than Gerard was definitely missing out. Each poem and poet left him a little more regretful and made him feel like he had been so ungrateful. But the last poet, a short man, tattooed even on the neck and all the way down to his fingers. He sure as fuck didn’t look like a poet, but Gerard wasn’t complaining about what he did look like. He was attractive to say the least. He had Gerard’s full, undivided attention from the get go and Gerard was already too weakened by the poetry to deny himself of what his heart thought it felt; a sharp, twisted pang of realization.  
The short man walked up to the small podium and everyone seemed to shuffle in their seats, sitting on the edge of them. Gerard looked around and plastered anywhere where there was empty space were posters promoting the reading, apparently with “special guest, resident celebrity poet, Frank Iero”. The short man stood as proudly as he could, neck outstretched and veins popping out prominently. 

“Hi I’m Frank and this is a poem I wrote specifically and exclusively for today, I actually wrote it this morning when the rain began and I think I kind of knew it would last all day. This poem is called Daydreaming.” And with a sharp intake of breath he began. 

“i am a sucker for when the heavens get so angry they attack the earth with a forceful downpour. i lock myself inside. i can hear their pounding…”

And Gerard’s heart began pounding up against his chest erratically. His breath coming out labored and minimal, not enough to breathe comfortably but enough to breathe. 

“ah….and the lightning. the sky cracks open. a celestial misstep, a momentary glimpse behind the forbidden curtain.”

Lightning starts to crack outside and Gerard is frightened by the impact; the power. 

“but they can’t touch me. no matter how hard they try.nothing gets in. i am only a witness.not involved, far removed. (daydreaming)wishing for their worst, hoping for the best. watching. soaking in the serenity through chaos.constantly moving, all while standing still.bated breath.listen.(stop)”

Gerard felt like a witness right there and then, in that very moment. All he was after all was a bystander, he felt not involved, far removed. He was just and only a drunk that had wanted some warm, safe shelter. He wasn’t living and even though he had known that forever, he hadn’t ever wanted to act on it until then. Until Frank. After that he had wandered around to every poetry reading Frank had done in town and usually they were in town, Frank didn’t like to travel out of it. And each time he listened to Frank’s poetry it convinced him to be better, he actually was doing better. He had stopped drinking, he had started drawing and painting again. He had started selling the art again and making a living. But he wasn’t living, not yet. It wasn’t until Frank noticed him, he said that he had noticed he’d been frequenting a lot of his readings and that he appreciated it. Gerard merely smiled sweetly, a smile that Frank would always remember as the start of Gerard’s hopeless romantic gestures. Frank had patted him on the back and then proceeded to take his seat up front, when he was invited up at the podium he did his usual introduction, his name and then a short story of how this poem came to be. 

“Hi I’m Frank, I wrote this poem because why the fuck not. Am I right?” 

Everyone in the audience, including Gerard, started laughing soft breathy laughs. 

“This poem doesn’t have a name, but it’s also not called untitled.” He took a deep breath and began. 

“let’s not fool ourselves friends. the end of the world is here.when all the white noise runs dry and the alcohol gets turned down to a dull hum …all we may have is each other’s shitty company.(i will wait for you.)though our lips have not touched, we breathe the same airand as our molecules collide you shall know this to be true. for if you don’t …well then maybe i’ve been wasting my time. these things we say, are not just things we say…they are our lies and our truth. our love and our hate.and though my tongue may be sharp at times, in my heart i believe in us.let me decompose in this embrace and be reborn as a fond memory for the dust to settle on and enjoy.  
-settle down-  
the moments we’ve shared together, real or imagined, are just a preamble.i look forward to floating, lost, in our vastness.sediment-ally yours,frnk.”

Gerard had decided that Frank was his key to living. If he ever wanted to feel alive again, he had to snatch Frank up, because his poetry did just that, it made Gerard feel alive. It wasn’t a whole other hour until Frank had finished talking to everyone that had approached him after the poem. He’d picked up his satchel and was headed out the door. Just outside the shop stood Gerard, shivering and nervous and all around feeling alive. 

Now Gerard realized that he wasn’t worthy of the love he was offering to Frank. Clearly Frank had saved Gerard’s life, he was deserving, but could Gerard keep that kind of love up, could he keep the offer he was making? He remembered that night when they talked for hours right outside the book shop, right after Frank’s reading. He didn’t know what overcame him but he was being charming and honest and Frank just kept talking to him and laughing at his jokes. So it made him want to be like that, permanently. Frank had stopped talking to him and he himself had stopped talking and they were standing in a quiet knowing silence and Gerard felt so fucking alive that it hurt. And then Frank took him home and let Gerard fuck him and Gerard didn’t want to leave the next morning and it was okay because Frank didn’t want him to leave. 

Frank loved the way simple tasks seemed so monumental to Gerard, each day was a boundless journey that couldn’t be strained by anything mortal or anything monetary. Little did he know that he was the ultimate cause and only reason for how alive Gerard was and that if he allowed and accepted the love Gerard offered, Gerard would always do his best to sustain it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first one shot I've written that wasn't put up on livejournal before being put up here. So as always, feedback is appreciated and welcomed and encouraged, etc. Thanks. :)


End file.
